


Operation: Birthday Boy

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [36]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Community: kink_bingo, Decadence, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint takes Phil out for his birthday. Phil has a really, really good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation: Birthday Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Orgies / Decadence

'Operation: Show Phil a Good Time' was a 'Go.' Clint had just stopped by Phil's office to let him know that he was heading out to run a couple of errands on his way home, and confirmed one last time that Phil would be home by six, so that they would make their seven o'clock dinner reservation. Phil had given him a fond smile, and Clint had covered his nerves with his usual cocky grin.

Leaving SHIELD headquarters, he headed to the garment district first, finding his way back to a non-descript building. Nat had brought him here ten days ago when he had enlisted her help.

"I have no idea what to get Phil for his birthday!" After a sarcastic explanation of 'these things called shopping malls,' she took pity on his panic and had let him in on one of her most closely guarded secrets: her tailor.

Nat had dragged him into a noisy workroom in the garment district and introduced him to a man she greeted in Russian.

"My friend here needs a gift for his boss. He likes nice ties." 

The tailor had led them through the workshop to a storage room with surprisingly good lighting, filled with racks and racks of fabric.

"Colour?"

"Um... his suits are mostly black. His ties are usually... also black?" Nat shot him a murderous look. "Um... sometimes black with stripes. Grey, or blue mostly."

Nat sighed heavily and the tailor started pulling bolts of fabric off the shelves. 

"Silk, of course, look at the exquisite weave," said the tailor. Nat started talking to him in Russian again, when something caught Clint's eye. He took a closer look at one of the pieces of black silk fabric. It had a design of tiny sailboats that were somehow woven into the fabric itself, so that the design didn't show unless you caught the angle of the light just right, and even then, it was subtle. He liked it. It reminded him of Coulson's well-hidden qualities. The only problem that sailboats weren't really Coulson's thing.

"Um, excuse me. Are there any others like this one, with something other than boats, I mean?"

"Certainly, sir. Excellent choice." The tailor swept the other bolts aside and started pulling down more. 

"That's the one," said Nat, who was standing closer to the tailor. She intercepted the fabric and handed it to Clint. The design woven into this one was tiny arrows.

"Are you sure?" Clint asked her, "I was thinking something more... I don't know..."

"It's perfect and he'll love it. Trust me."

"Yeah, OK." Clint shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around while the tailor replaced the rest of the fabric on the shelves. To his left was another table piled high with samples, and one of them... he couldn't help but reach out a hand to touch. It wasn't shiny, it just had a tiny bit of a sheen to it that Clint thought looked really classy, and it was beautifully soft and silky to the touch.

"It would look gorgeous," Nat said from behind him, looking over his shoulder at the deep purple silk fabric. Clint snatched his hand away and stuffed it back into his pocket. 

"Too flashy for Phil," said Clint with a slightly wistful tone in his voice.

"Not on him, on you."

"I don't wear ties."

"Actually I was picturing it as a shirt." 

The tailor who had excellent ears, and knew Nat well, had come up to them and as she spoke he swept up the bolt of purple silk and draped a length of it over Clint's shoulder.

"Oh, yes. Most elegant, don't you think."

"Classy." Nat said, looking at Clint. "You could wear it when you take him out for his birthday. He likes it when you dress nice."

Clint rolled his eyes and punched her in the arm, but Nat knew she'd won. Clint let the tailor take his measurements, and double-checked that both the shirt and tie would be ready on time...

Which they were, to his great relief when he got to the workshop. The tie was gorgeous, and they had thoughtfully included a box tied with a ribbon, so Clint didn't have to worry about wrapping. He mentally crossed that step off his list. Then the tailor made him try on the purple silk shirt to check the fit. The fabric felt nice against his skin, light and airy, and soft. Looking at himself in the mirror he wondered if it wasn't just a little too much, but then he saw the looks he was getting from some of the women working at the sewing machines, and he smiled his thanks at the tailor.

"Keep my measurements on file, please. I might be back."

"Indeed, sir."

Clint's next stop was at the dry-cleaners for his suit. He owned one good, black suit. Nat had made him buy it the first time they had to go to the funeral of a colleague after a mission gone bad. He'd been pissed at her at the time, but had appreciated since that he did have a suit for those few times he needed one, and black went with everything. Always. He was only planning to wear the pants, however. It was much too warm for the jacket, and besides, even though it fit pretty well, it was still tight enough across the shoulders that it made him feel constrained. He could never understand how Phil was perfectly comfortable fighting in a suit. Practice, Clint guessed.

With his dry-cleaning in one hand and bag from the tailor in the other, he made his last stop, the liquor store down the block from their apartment. He walked in and looked around aimlessly for a minute, before the guy behind the counter took pity on him.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Um, yeah. I'm looking for a bottle of champagne."

"May I ask the occasion?"

"Birthday."

"And how many people would you like to serve?"

"Two. Just two."

"No need for a Magnum, then. This one's very nice, or if you want to spend a little more, there's this one." The guy pointed at one bottle with a $50 price tag on it, and another one that went for $75. Clint had no idea how much you were supposed to pay for champagne, but he knew it was supposed to be expensive, so he pointed at the second bottle. 

"I'll take that one."

"Excellent, I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

Leaving the liquor store, he got back to the apartment. 'Operation: Phil's Fantastic Birthday' was running right on schedule and he was pleased with himself. 

He put the champagne to chill in the fridge, hung the suit and shirt on the back of the bedroom door, and put the box with Phil's gift on the dresser, on Phil's side. He smiled at the thought. Living in Phil's apartment with him and sharing space like this was still new and special. 

Clint glanced at the clock and told himself to get a move on. He quickly stripped and got into the shower, washing quickly and then turning off the water and climbing back out so that he could use the big bathroom mirror to shave very carefully, the way Phil liked. 

He toweled his hair, and decided against using anything in it, just in case Phil wanted to run his fingers through it... later. He picked up his clothes and wet towels off the bathroom floor and tossed them all in the hamper. He was standing in the kitchen in his briefs pouring the Champagne when he heard Phil's key in the lock.

"Well, hello," Phil said as he was greeted at the door by his freshly-showered-and-shaved, almost naked, champagne-bearing boyfriend. "I thought we were going out? Or was that just a ploy to make sure I'd get home from work on time?"

"Oh, we're going out all right," Clint said, though when he saw the look in Phil's eye, he added, "Unless you would rather stay in..." Much as he'd hate to scrap the rest of "Operation: Phil and Clint's Decadent Dinner Date," after all the work and planning he'd put into it, re-vectoring the mission from a restaurant meal to hot birthday sex with champagne might not be a bad plan.

"Tempting, but no - you promised me dinner in a nice restaurant, and I'm starving. I skipped lunch."

"Why, what happened?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to make sure I wouldn't be late, so I worked through lunch."

That deserved a kiss, so Clint leaned in and gave him one. Then he said, 

"Drink up!" Phil sipped his Champagne and made a noise of approval.

"You like it?"

"Yes, it's very nice." 

"Good. Happy Birthday."

"Thank you, Clint. Do I have time to shower and change, or should I just wash up quick?"

"You have time to shower if you're quick, the cab should be here in," Clint glanced at the clock, "twenty-minutes."

"No problem."

Clint dressed while Phil showered, and then re-filled Phil's champagne glass and, hoping he wasn't being too obvious, put it on the dresser, next to the gift. He didn't bother re-filling his own glass, he couldn't see what all the fuss with Champagne was about, to be honest.

Phil came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, and stared at Clint.

"Wow. Just... wow!"

"You like it? Nat said you would. She uh... helped me shop."

"I'll have to remember to thank her. You look gorgeous." Phil took a step closer to Clint and ran his hand down the front of the shirt. Clint shivered at the feel of Phil's warm fingers stroking him through the silky fabric, and tried to pull Phil in for a kiss, but Phil leaned back. 

"I'll get you all wet. Besides I need to get dressed."

Clint considered telling him not to bother, cancelling the cab, and tackling Phil onto the bed, but he was starting to get hungry, too. And besides, he'd worked hard on 'Operation: Pamper Phil,' and wanted to see it through. Clint had made up all the dumb names in his head to try to play down how important this evening was to him. He wanted to do something nice, something really nice, for Phil. Not just because it was his birthday, and not just because they'd been together for almost a year. Not because they'd recently moved in together, and it seemed to actually be going OK. Not even because a couple of weeks ago he'd screwed up big time, and he was still trying to make that up to Phil, though, to be honest, that was a really big part of it.

But he knew Phil didn't indulge himself very much. Clint had come to understand that it was partly his personality and partly his upbringing, but self-indulgence didn't come easily to Phil. Clint knew that Phil would be perfectly happy with a Captain America coffee mug and a piece of apple pie from the diner down the road for his birthday. But Clint wanted to give him more than that, Clint wanted to make him feel really special. It was Phil's birthday and Clint was going to encourage him to indulge.

"What's this?" Phil had picked up his glass to take another sip of Champagne, and noticed the box sitting next to it on the dresser.

"Your birthday present."

Phil put down his glass and picked up the box.

"Thank you."

"You should open it and make sure you like it first."

Phil smiled a small smile and untied the ribbon. He lifted the tie out of the box and immediately held it up to the light. 

"It's great, Clint. I love it. Thank you."

Clint felt his face split into a pleased grin. "You're welcome. Happy Birthday."

"I'll wear it tonight," Phil said, heading for the closet and taking out one of his best suits, a dark steel grey one that Clint particularly liked because it brought out the blue in Phil's eyes. While Phil was getting dressed, Clint asked,

"You don't mind that I'm not wearing the jacket?" he gestured at the black suit jacket still hanging over the back of the bedroom door.

"Are you kidding? I get to look at you in that shirt all evening!" Clint grinned again, thinking he needed to buy Nat some flowers or something, and possibly order a couple more of these shirts from the tailor.

There was a honk from outside and Clint went to the window.

"The cab's here, should I go down and tell him to wait?"

"No, I'm ready." Phil had just finished tying his shoes. He picked up his glass, knocked back the rest of his Champagne, and put his arm through Clint's.

"Let's go!"

For all that Phil wasn't usually demonstrative in public, he seemed to be OK with sitting close enough to Clint in the back of the cab to have one hand on Clint's arm, stroking it through the silk for the entire ride to the restaurant. It would have made Clint want to jump him, if it weren't for the fact that Clint was feeling distinctly nervous about his choice of restaurant. 

He'd spent hours on the internet. He wanted a nice restaurant. Not so fancy that he wouldn't know which fork to use, but somewhere that Phil could get the best steak he'd had in years. He wanted there to be a good bar and wine menu, and for it to be a sort-of romantic place. And he kinda wanted them not to be the only gay couple there. He figured that Phil might be more comfortable and relaxed if he knew no one was going to stare at them or anything. So he'd looked up "New York Gay Restaurants" and even scouted his top choices to make sure that they weren't next to a sex shop or a leather bar. 

The cab pulled up and Clint paid the cabbie and tipped him, then joined Phil on the sidewalk.

"Look OK?"

"Looks great."

They went inside and found themselves in line behind a couple of men who were discretely holding hands. Clint glanced at Phil to get his reaction, but Phil was looking around the restaurant, taking in the décor and (Clint knew) also memorizing the sightlines, cover, and exits. The Maitre d' showed the couple ahead of them to a table, and then came back to take their name.

"Barton, reservation for seven o'clock"

"Yes, Mr. Barton, I have you right here. I'm so sorry, but we've had a large party take longer than expected. Your table won't be ready for about ten minutes. I do apologize for that, and I'd like to offer you complimentary drinks at the bar while you wait, would that be all right?"

"Um...yeah, I guess, Phil?"

"Of course, it's fine." Phil gave him a big smile, and Clint relaxed a little. The Maitre d' showed them to the bar and waved the bartender over,

"Chris, a couple of specials for these gentlemen while they wait, please."

"Coming right up."

They settled themselves onto barstools and Phil bumped Clint's shoulder with his.

"It's fine, Clint. I'm having fun."

The bartender put two tall mixed drinks down in front of them,

"Our special cocktail, compliments of the house."

Phil nodded his thanks at the bartender and picked up his drink and took a sip.

"This is really good, what's in it?"

"Dark rum, Cointreau, cranberry juice, coke, and a squeeze of lemon. It's called a 'Dark Horse'."

"Mmm. Thanks." Phil took another sip and turned to Clint, "What do you think?"

"It's a little sweet for me, but I'm glad you like it." Clint smiled, relaxing more now that Phil was clearly enjoying himself. They chatted about their respective days while they sipped their drinks, looked around the restaurant, and waited for their table to be ready. Just as Clint was starting to get antsy again, the bartender came back and gestured at Phil's empty glass.

"Can I get you another?"

"Oh, no, I really shouldn't"

"Go ahead, Phil, have another one if you want to, after all it is your birthday."

"Oh, is it?" said the bartender, "Happy Birthday, and according to our house policy, if you'd like to show me some ID with your birth date on it, your next drink is on the house."

"I really don't need..."

Clint poked him in the ribs, "Go ahead, it's fine. We're cabbing home, and we're off tomorrow. Enjoy yourself."

Phil sheepishly pulled out his wallet and slid his driver's license out to show the bartender, who nodded and started mixing another drink. Clint watched and got a wink as the bartender was slyly generous with his pouring. Clint grinned. His plan to show Phil a good time was working out beautifully.

"And for you?" The bartender asked as he put Phil's drink down in front of him.

"Oh, just a beer." 

"Amstel, Brooklyn Lager or Rolling Rock?"

"Uh, Rolling Rock will be fine. Thanks."

Clint was just taking his first pull on his beer when the Maître d' reappeared.

"So sorry for the wait, your table is ready now, if you'll follow me."

Clint was pleased to see that they had a table by the wall, because it felt a little more private. He wondered if Phil would mind them holding hands under the table while they waited for their food. As they sat down, he noticed that the people at the next were the couple that had been in front of them in line earlier. The Maître d' handed them menus and told them that their waiter would be along shortly to take their orders.

Clint had pretty much memorized the menu from the website when he'd been researching restaurants, so he took the opportunity to watch Phil. Phil took his glasses out of an inside pocket and put them on to read.

Clint put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands and stared. 

"Wow, this all looks great, Clint," Phil said with his nose still in the menu. "Great choice of restaurant. How did you find it?"

"I looked it up on the Internet."

"I think I'm going to go with the mussels for the starter, and the filet mignon main course. What are you going to have?" Phil looked up and caught Clint staring at him. He blushed slightly, and took his glasses off.

"You look adorable with your glasses on, Phil. You know that."

"I know you think that."

"It's true."

Phil just gave him a fond smile and asked again,

"Have you decided what you're ordering?"

"The calamari rings and the pork chops."

"Sounds good." Phil put his menu down and to Clint's surprise, he put his hand out, palm up, on the table. Clint smiled happily and took Phil's hand and gave it a squeeze. Phil didn't even move it when the waiter came to take their order, and ask whether they wanted wine with dinner.

"What do you think?"

"It's up to you. We can have wine if you want, or you can have another one of those," Clint gestured at Phil's empty cocktail glass.

"I'm definitely not having another one of these, at least not until I've got some food in my stomach! Wine sounds nice, though, red OK?"

"Sure, you pick. You know way more about wine than I do."

Phil took the wine menu offered to him by the waiter, and only then let go of Clint's hand so that he could fish his glasses out of his pocket again.

"Don't start," he said to Clint, looking at him over the tops of the frames in a way that made Clint's heart do a summersault and his dick twitch in his pants.

"The Bordeaux, I think," said Phil, "My boyfriend here doesn't like sweet drinks."

"Very good, sir," said the waiter with a smile, and Clint waited while Phil put his glasses back away, and then reached for his hand again. 

"That shirt really does look very good on you. I keep wanting to reach out and stroke you."

"Go right ahead," Clint said with a playful smile, "It's not like anyone's going to notice." Clint nodded his head slightly at the couple next to them, who were very much wrapped up in one another, and were holding hands across the table the same way he and Phil were.

"It's their third or fourth date."

"How the hell can you tell that?" Clint was pretty sure that Phil was having fun with him, but he didn't mind very much.

"First date is coffee, either at lunchtime or on a weekend afternoon. Very little pressure, no formality. Second date is dinner and a movie, or dinner and a show if you're a little more upscale. But for that you want a more casual restaurant, someplace you know you can get in and out of within an hour, so a sushi joint or a decent little Italian place. This place, this place is nice. Not so upscale that anyone has to worry about which fork to use, but really classy and romantic. Perfect for a third or fourth date with someone you've decided you really like. For when you want the relationship to go somewhere."

"How do you know all this?" asked Clint, extremely pleased with himself that he'd picked a restaurant that Phil thought was classy and romantic. 

"Experience." Said Phil, looking into Clint's eyes, "I had a lot of first and second dates. Not so many third and fourth ones."

"But, why? Phil, you're... great."

Phil gave a little shrug. "Sometimes work got in the way, I had to go on a mission, and by the time I got back, they weren't interested. Sometimes things just didn't click."

"I... I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

"Me neither. You were worth waiting for."

Clint opened his mouth to say something, but just then the waiter arrived with a tray of food. He put plates down in front of each of them, and said he'd be right back with the wine.

Clint finished his beer and stuck his fork into a calamari ring. It was excellent. Crunchy and tasty on the outside and not too rubbery on the inside.

"How are they?"

"Really good!"

"I'm surprised you like calamari," Phil said, giving up on fishing for his mussels with his fork and prying the shells all the way open with his fingers.

"What's not to like? They're like onion rings, only chewier. How are your mussels?" Though, Clint thought, he didn't really have to ask, Phil had opened the shells by hand and wiped his fingers on the napkin, and was now spearing the bits of meat with a fork and stuffing them into his mouth with obvious enjoyment. Phil swallowed and said,

"Really, really good. They're swimming in herb butter. Do you want to try one?"

"Sure." Phil speared one with a fork and held it out to Clint, who leaned in across the table and opened his mouth, his eyes fixed on Phil's. The little bit of meat was indeed very tasty, though the tastes were mainly butter and salt. 'Maybe they're rich person popcorn,' he thought. 

The waiter reappeared and poured the wine, which Phil tasted and pronounced satisfactory. He raised his glass, and Clint did the same.

"Happy Birthday, Phil," he said.

"Thank you Clint, cheers."

He took a sip of his wine, smiled in appreciation and went back to his mussels, making quiet little noises of appreciation as he ate. Clint watched him between bites of his calamari, pleased with himself for making this happen. Phil liked to eat, and liked to eat well, but he usually just didn't make the time. Other things were more important. 'We're gonna do this more often from now on,' Clint thought, just as Phil looked up at him and said,

"This is really nice, Clint, we should do it more often."

"I was actually just thinking that. Um... you've got, uh..." Clint reached across the table and wiped a dribble of butter off Phil's chin with his thumb. Phil caught his hand as he went to pull it back, and his tongue snaked out to lick the butter off. Clint eyes went wide with surprise. Phil must really be feeling at ease if he was comfortable enough to be doing that in public. Or maybe...

Clint glanced at Phil's half-empty wine glass and did some calculations in his head. '2 glasses of champagne before we got here, two of those cocktails, and the second one was probably extra strong... half a glass of wine, on... no lunch and half-plate of mussels.' Was Phil drunk? Clint didn't believe it was possible. In the five years they'd known each other, Clint had seen Phil drink more than a couple of glasses of wine or a couple of beers exactly once, and that was at the wake for a colleague. Phil had had a beer and three whiskeys, and had seemed as sober as a judge the entire evening. Clint had just assumed Phil had a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, what with having been in the army and being a badass at just about everything. 

The waiter came and took their plates, and Phil immediately put his hand out across the table again for Clint to take, which he did.

"So, tell me how you know it's only their third date, and they haven't been together for a while, like us," Clint said, speaking quietly and nodding at the couple at the next table.

"Body language," said Phil. "Look at the set of the guy on our side's shoulders. He's leaning in to talk, but see how his shoulders are pulled up towards his ears. He's happy to be here, but he's not relaxed about it. And the guy on my side, look at how his left hand keeps moving. He's conscious that he doesn't know what to do with it. They were holding hands earlier, and he can still feel that, but now he doesn't know what to do with his hand, so he keeps moving it from his lap to the table and back." Now that Phil had pointed it out, he could see what Phil was talking about, and picked up on another couple of 'tells' himself: the slightly too-wide smile one wore when the other was talking, the way they'd avoid looking into each other's eyes for too long at a time. 

"You're awesome, and I love you." Clint said, and Phil smiled wide.

"I love you too," Phil said and reached across the table with his other hand to lay it on Clint's forearm, and started stroking him through the fabric of the shirt again, the way he had in the taxi. "Much as I do like you in this shirt, I'm also looking forward to getting you out of it, later."

They were again interrupted by the waiter, who brought their main courses and topped up both their wine glasses.

Phil cut into his filet mignon, and put a piece into his mouth.

"Mmmmm. This is fantastic."

Clint grinned and watched happily as Phil worked his way though his main course, obviously enjoying every bit of it. Phil might be a little drunk, but he was also smiling and happy, and Clint loved seeing him that way.

The waiter reappeared to clear their plates, neatly dodging around one of the men at the table next to them, who had just gotten up and headed for the back of the restaurant, presumably to use the restroom. After the waiter had left, the other man at the next table leaned over.

"Excuse me, please, forgive me for intruding,"

"Not at all," Phil turned a bright smile on the man, and there was now no doubt at all in Clint's mind that Phil was drunk.

"You two, can I ask how long you've been together - you look so happy," he said by way of an explanation.

"Almost a year," said Clint.

"Eleven-and-a-half months," said Phil, at the same time. They smiled at each other.

"Wow, you look like you've known each other way longer than that."

"We have," said Phil.

"We worked together for four years before we... ah... got together," said Clint.

"That explains it. Sorry, I just... this is our third date, and I really, really like him," the man said, gesturing at the empty seat, "but I don't know how to let him know."

"Tell him," Phil and Clint said simultaneously, and all three of them laughed.

"Really, if you like him, just tell him. Don't take the chance of letting something good slip away," said Phil with a fond smile at Clint.

"Yeah, it's hard, but he's right - just say it. It'll be worth it," said Clint. The man looked from Phil to Clint and back again.

"Well, it obviously works for you two, so I'll try to take your advice. Thanks. Thanks a lot."

The man's date came back to the table, and raised an eyebrow. "I'll tell you later," the man they had been talking to promised, getting up from the table, "Thanks, enjoy the rest of your meal."

"Not sure I could eat anything else," said Phil stretching back a little and patting his belly.

"Didn't you save room for dessert? Phil, one of the reasons I chose this place is that the desserts are supposed to be awesome! 'Decadent', the reviews on the website said. And with that sweet tooth of yours..."

"Well, I'll take a look at the dessert menu and see."

The waiter reappeared and handed them dessert menus, which featured mouth-watering pictures of towering confections of chocolate and whipped cream.

The waiter stood with his pencil poised.

"I'll have the banana split," Clint said.

Coulson's eyebrows went up, and Clint gave him a look that said, "I'll tell you later."

"I'm torn between 'Death by Chocolate' and 'Sex on a Plate,'" Phil said to the waiter, who started to grin.

"Which one's sweeter?" Clint asked, knowing Phil's weakness.

"That would be the 'Sex on a Plate,' the caramel syrup is very sweet," said the waiter.

Phil nodded.

"Coffee?" the waiter asked.

"Yes. Absolutely, coffee would be a very good idea." Phil nodded again.

"We have a special dessert Irish coffee with vanilla syrup and extra whipped cream on top." the waiter said, winking at Clint.

"I shouldn't..." Phil started.

"Go ahead, Phil. It's still your birthday."

"Oh, all right." The waiter looked at Clint.

"Just a straight black coffee for me, please."

"So, banana split?"

"I... I saw one in a cartoon when I was really young. I don't know what cartoon it was, there was just this goofy kid and something bad happened to him - he fell down a hole or something, and after it all got straightened out, his... mother or whoever asked him what he wanted for supper and he said a "banana split" and because the bad thing had happened, he was allowed to have dessert for supper, and his mom put it on the table, and he grabbed a spoon, and it was like, the best thing a kid could possibly eat in the whole world. It was, at least 20 years, I guess, before ever I got the chance to actually have one. It was pretty good. I bet this one'll be better."

Of the many things Clint loved about Phil, one of them was the way Phil never pitied him when he talked about his crappy childhood. Clint knew it made Phil sad, but he never said anything, never let it show in his eyes. The only thing Phil ever did was hug him or squeeze his hand or say 'I love you,' which is what he did now. It always made Clint smile.

Phil's eyes bugged out when his dessert plate arrived. It was piled high with double-chocolate fudge cake with whipped cream and caramel sauce. 

"I'm afraid you're going to need a forklift to get me out of here if I eat all this."

"Yeah," Clint said, eyeing the enormous banana split in front of him. "Where d'you think they got bananas this big?"

They worked their way slowly through their desserts, sharing bites, and sipping their respective coffees. Finally, the meal was done.

"Anything else?" the waiter asked.

"No thank you, everything was wonderful, though," Phil answered.

"Just the cheque, please, and if you could call us a cab?"

"Certainly, sir."

Clint left a generous tip, and smiled at Phil.

"Ready to head home?"

"More than ready. Still looking forward to getting you out of that gorgeous shirt. Or maybe, come to think of it... leaving you in it, all unbuttoned and draping down - "

Phil had been pushing his chair back and getting to his feet as he talked, but as soon as he took a step away from the table, he listed sideways a little. Clint reached out quickly to grab his arm.

"Phil, are you OK?"

"Fine, I'm absolutely fine. I seem to have had a little bit too much to drink." Clint watched as Phil straightened himself up and pulled himself together. "I'm completely fine."

"OK, let's go." Clint let Phil go first, watching how he carefully navigated between the tables. A casual observer wouldn't see anything amiss, but Clint could tell how much concentration Phil was using to walk a straight line to the door. He carefully hid his smile. Phil drunk was cute as hell, but certainly wouldn't appreciate being told so.

Standing outside the restaurant and waiting for their cab, Clint slipped his arm around Phil. 

"Sorry."

"What for?"

"For getting kinda drunk."

"Why are you apologizing for that, Phil? It's your birthday, you're supposed to celebrate, have fun, eat, drink and be merry, and all that stuff."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?"

"Dunno, 'cause it's... not the way I usually am. I can't remember the last time I got drunk. Probably right after I got out of the army."

"I love you every way you are, Phil. I don't care if you got a little drunk, I just wanted you to have a good time."

"I did." Phil turned in Clint's arms and looked into his eyes. "This is one of the best birthdays I've ever had." And Phil kissed him. In the middle of a New York City sidewalk. Clint kissed back, hoping that Phil wouldn't be horribly embarrassed about this tomorrow. Assuming he could remember it. A horn honked and they broke apart to see their cab at the curb.

"OK, birthday boy, lets get you home!"

In his head, Clint declared 'Operation: Give Phil a Happy Birthday' a success.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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